


you smile like the sun, but twice as pretty

by Sorbus



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 05:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12029241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorbus/pseuds/Sorbus
Summary: There's a story to how every soulmate pair switched. Some happen to be funnier than others.





	you smile like the sun, but twice as pretty

The switch, as it was commonly called, did not happen on midnight of the youngest’s sixteenth birthday. It probably would have been a lot easier to prepare for if that was the case – and but all but the most romantic of young teens knew that was myth, made to fit the plot of romance dramas so that such-and-so could dramatically reveal they were _meant_ for each other conveniently at the exact same time they were allowed to fuck. Maybe if the universe was kind, Marinette would have passed her sixteenth birthday in the body of her _destined lover_ and gotten it all out of the way. No, at sixteen she was still swinging around Paris, fighting crime and saving the day, only giving thought those to the lucky thirty percent of people who got to switch in her – admittedly – juvenile daydreams about Adrien.

Her younger self might have had a coronary if she knew that at twenty, long after the miraculous business had finished, she and Adrien shared a cute little flat, not ten minutes from the main building of their shared university campus.

Of course, he was currently in a four-week relationship – a record! – with Andrew from accounting class, and in an ironic twist of fate, he was the best of her friends to go to for moaning about her Big Gay Crush on Alya, which had hit her like a freight train not even a year before and had since made her life hell. Marinette had never been good with dealing with a crush, and she hadn’t magically found a way to retain at least _some_ composure in the face of such beauty, of such a radiant smile and magnificent laugh and fucking _adorable_ dimples and–

“Aaahh,” Marinette let out a low, miserable moan and shoved her face into the decorative sofa pillow. It was bright yellow – _Alya’s favourite colour!­_ “Kill me now.”

Adrien had the audacity to laugh, the cheeky little shit. “Honestly,” he said, leaning on the counter with a grin as if he hadn’t been the same – if not _worse_ – with him own crushes. “Just ask her out.”

“Sure,” she rolled her eyes. “And say, what, exactly?”

Adrien laughed, and grabbed a pillow he held in approximation of a baby. It was probably supposed to be romantic. He twirls around, as if sweeping it off its feet and says “Alya my love, my dearest friend of many years… my heart aches for you. I am so, _so_ very gay for you, please marry me and adopt two-point-five children and a dog?”

He swivels back around to Marinette, going in for an overexaggerated bow only to freeze at the brown, _brown_ eyes and a shit-eating grin that he knew only belonged to one other person.

“Well,” not-Marinette says, “I’m sure Andrew will be very disappointed.”

He drops the pillow.

When all’s said and done, Marinette manages to hide for an entire week before Alya gets to her.

(“I can’t believe it happened like that!” She bemoans into a different pillow. It’s orange, which is close enough to yellow that she doesn’t feel much better. Adrien is making her hot chocolate in a bid for forgiveness. “I didn’t even _feel_ anything? Just a blink, and then–! _Ahhh_ , bury me please.”

“None of that,” Adrien chides.

“And _you_! I can’t believe you said those- those _things_! I’ll never be able to show my face again!”

Wordlessly, he hands her the hot chocolate, and her pity party is put on hold for all of the five minutes it takes for her to chug it down.)

Alya’s always been resourceful, so it’s little wonder how she managed to get into their flat, without a key, when she should have been on the other end of the city attending a seminar on all the wonders of different bone structures in the hand. In all fairness, Marinette would have skipped that too.

“Hey,” she says, nudging Marinette to the side so they can sit together. Marinette has always been weak for her friend, whether she’d been crushing on the other girl or not, and immediately makes room. She can’t even bring herself to regret it a minute later when Alya grins and opens her mouth.

“ _Would_ you like to marry me and adopt two-point-five children?” Marinette huffs and throws her hands in the air, but a smile tugs at her lips at Alya’s laugh. “And a dog,” she adds, “of course.”

There’s a pause. “So… Soulmates, huh?”

“So it seems.”

“I’m not surprised.”

Marinette finally glances at Alya for that. She’d been surprised, even if she was inordinately pleased – ecstatic, really – with the outcome after getting over her initial mortification. Alya gives her a look back.

“Were you? I couldn’t think of anyone else I’ve been more comfortable with in my life.”

Marinette blushes at that, but she can’t help but agree. Even with her bad track record in keeping any sort of cool with a crush, she’d still managed to hang out with Alya, and talk – at least somewhat – like a regular human being.

Alya twined their fingers together and uses her big thumb to stroke a path across Marinette’s hand. “Girlfriends?”

“Just like that?” Marinette asks, because, well, really?

“Oh, did you want something more dramatic?” Alya grins before pitching her voice three bits higher. “ _Marinette_! My love, my _soulmate_. My heart positively _aches_ for you.”

“Stop it!” Marinette protests, but she’s laughing.

“Oh! I am so very, _very_ gay for you. _Please_ marry me, my dearest, sweetest–”

“Fine, fine! I get it.” She huffs, but holds Alya’s hand a little tighter, feeling content in just being together for the moment.

There’s no such click of everything falling into place, or any sort of significant change. It feels like a natural extension of what was already there, which is most likely the point of it all – and really, Marinette could probably say they’d have gotten to this point without the switch, though not likely half as quickly.

A moment passes like that, sitting side by side, hand in hand and a little bit more at peace with the world. Alya of course, has to break it.

“What sort of dog should we get?”

Marinette grabs a pillow – the yellow one – and chucks it right at her.

**Author's Note:**

> t for swearing i guess. apparently the law says it's 15 in france but the fics not about that so who cares. shoutout to all the cool people pushing for other pairings in this fandom, ur fighting the good fight


End file.
